The House of Women

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘I will be bound to run across him and I won’t be able to keep my hands off him.’

  ‘I wouldn’t try anything like that, if I were you; he’s a young fellow and I think he’d be able to hold his own. That would be a mistake on your part if you hit him or even attempted to. Ignore him if you will, but I would advise you to keep your temper and your hands to yourself.’

  He sat down suddenly in his chair and, taking out a handkerchief, he wiped the sweat from his brow. Then looking at her he said, ‘Have you spoken to her about when Cartwright goes?’

  ‘No, I haven’t, and I have no intention of doing so. He’s got some months to go before he retires and there’s Harry Brooker to consider.’

  As if he had been prodded with a fork from the chair seat, he was up and confronting her again, crying now, ‘I’ve been there for twenty years! By God, in heaven! If she were to put him in front of me, I’d do something to her. I would that. There’s many a time I’ve felt like swinging for her but if she did that…’

  ‘Shut your mouth! Don’t you dare say such things. And let me tell you, Len, once and for all, she can do what she likes. The business is hers, this house is hers, and at the end she could leave the lot to the Salvation Army and you or I or anybody else couldn’t stop her. But it’s you, remember, who’ll be more likely to make her do it. Let’s face it once and for all, we are here on sufferance, both of us, and Peggy. She had no need to let us stay here, neither at the beginning, nor since. Just as many another couple had, she could have made us take a council house or such. I was in one the other day, the home of your future son-in-law, and you know what I thought? And don’t look like that and put your fist out to me, because he will be your son-in-law; and I repeat, you know what I thought? This is the kind of house we could have been in for years, a bit cleaner, yes, but the same kind, because your money would never have provided us with anything else at the beginning, and not even now. So don’t you talk of swinging for her else somebody might swing for you. And tell me this: why, if you thought you were worth something better than manager of the showrooms, didn’t you go out and get another job? No; you’ve hung on here hoping that she’d die and that I’d come into everything, or most of it, because it wasn’t likely she’d leave the control in Mother’s hands. That’s been in your mind, hasn’t it? Well now, let me tell you, she’s far from dying, she’ll see my mother out and I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if she sees me out too. And let me tell you something finally: if she’s going to leave anything to anyone, it’s more likely to be to Peggy. And who’ll reap the benefit of that? That young fellow you don’t intend to tolerate and who you are going to bash if ever you come across him. And when he marries your daughter in just over a week’s time you’re not going to be here to see it, are you? because you’ve taken your fortnight’s holiday early; you’re going off on a tour. You know something, Len Hammond? You make me sick. Well, there I’ve said it, you make me sick, and you have for years. And when you go off on your tour I hope you meet somebody more suitable to you, for I’d be pleased to give you a divorce tomorrow. There’s more unlikely things have happened, you know. You’re only thirty-seven and when you’re spruced up you look attractive, even if you don’t sound it. Think on it.’ She turned and walked towards the door, but there stopped and, looking back at him, said, ‘But make sure she’s got money, or her people have, because you’re the kind of man who really needs someone to work for you.’

  She had quickly closed the door before his voice brought her shoulders hunching as he yelled, ‘I just might! I just might, at that.’

  When she reached the hall, her mother, who was standing at the foot of the stairs, suddenly displayed an unusual gesture: quickly approaching her daughter, she put an arm around Lizzie’s shoulder and guided her towards the sitting room, saying, ‘Come and sit down; and I’ll tell you what, we’ll have a glass of sherry.’

  In the room Victoria pressed Lizzie down onto the couch and stood for a moment looking at her before she said, ‘Don’t worry; perhaps something’ll happen to him. Don’t worry.’ Then lowering her head down towards Lizzie, she whispered, ‘Perhaps he’ll get run over while he’s on his holiday, at best fall under a bus.’

  It was many a long year since Lizzie had heard her mother make a joke, and this macabre one caused an upheaval in the pit of her stomach. It started as a rumbling laugh and when it reached her throat it almost choked her. Her head went back on the couch, her mouth opened wide and she let out a roar of laughter such as she had never before heard herself make. And her mother was now sitting beside her, holding her hand, and she, too, was laughing. But when the tears began to run down her daughter’s face she pulled her into her arms, saying, ‘There now. There now. Give over. Give over.’

  Neither of them was aware that the door had opened until Victoria looked up and saw her mother standing above them. And she said to her, ‘Lizzie’s upset, Mother.’ And Emma Funnell nodded, saying, ‘Well, there’s nothing like a good cry to clear the system. And the next best thing is a glass of sherry, eh?’

  Lizzie pulled herself from her mother’s arms, lay back on the couch again and, looking up at her grandmother, her tears turned to laughter once more, and almost on a gurgle she said, ‘A glass of sherry, Gran? Yes, a glass of sherry. This must really be an occasion, for Mother, too, suggested it, and we only have sherry on occasions.’

  ‘Well, we will make this an occasion, dear,’ said Emma Funnell. ‘As we drink our sherry we’ll discuss the wedding and whether we’re going to have a little reception here or at an hotel. After what you have told me about his people, though, I myself think an hotel would be preferable. Anyway, we’ll discuss the matter over the sherry. Go and bring the bottle, Victoria, and the best glasses, too. And there are those new biscuits that came from Fortnum and Mason’s. And if Peggy’s in her room, bring her down too; she should be in on this.’

  Lizzie let her chin droop onto her chest. ‘Bring Peggy down too,’ Emma had said, ‘she should be in on this.’ Dear God! Life was really funny when you came to think of it, because it was made up of families, and there was nothing funnier than families, was there? Or more tragic, or more sad or more hopeless and desolate. And it was all inside of her.

  Six

  It was the night before her wedding and Peggy was standing in the little sitting room of her new home. Her mother and gran had worked wonders with it over the past four weeks, and for the last week her Auntie May and Mr Conway—she couldn’t even now think of him as Uncle—had been of enormous help. And so the whole place was looking fresh and shining. The rooms were mostly emulsioned a delicate shade of mauve, the doors and woodwork painted a bright yellow-sun colour. For the sitting room they had brought down furniture from the attics, but her great-gran had fitted the kitchen out with a new electric cooker, a washing machine and dryer, and cupboard fitments, besides a kitchen table and four chairs. She had also bought her a modern bedroom suite. The bedroom carpet and the landing and stair carpets were new. They had found two comparatively good carpets in the attic, one blue for the dining room and one pink for the sitting room. There had been no talk of fitting out the second bedroom as a nursery, not as yet. There was a small scullery going off the kitchen and it was here the door connected with the house. There had been no lock or bolt on the connecting door, and when she saw Mr Conway putting a lock on she didn’t know whether he was doing it off his own bat, or her mother had suggested it, and she didn’t enquire.

  It was from the small dining room at the far end of the annexe, away from the house, that another door led into the yard and almost onto a path which, in turn, led to the tradesmen’s entrance. And this was plainly stated on a wooden board at the lower gate. It was by this way that Andrew had made two recent visits to his future home, and on each he had been ill at ease, for both her mother and gran had been present.

  But now she was waiting for his coming and she was alone. She walked round the sitting room. It seemed small, box-like after the one in the house. B
ut there was one consoling thought: it was to be her own…well, not quite her own, because he would be with her. And what was more, she would have to cook for him. She wouldn’t mind that though, for she liked cooking. Her mother had been showing her how to cook for some time.

  She walked into the dining room. The table could seat six. There was a nice little sideboard. She opened the middle drawer. In it was a cutlery section, and there were six pieces each of what was necessary for a dinner. These had come from the dining room across the way. She was already thinking of her home as the house across the way.

  She went back to the sitting room and sat on the couch before the electric fire. She felt lonely. She had felt lonely since she had left school. She hadn’t seen any of her friends until yesterday, when she met Jane Power and Betty Rowlands in the market place. They had obviously been undecided whether or not to stop and speak to her. When they did, it was Jane who said, ‘Hello, Peggy. How are you?’ And she had answered, ‘Fine.’ But when Betty Rowlands asked, ‘How does it feel?’ she had stiffened as she replied, ‘How does what feel?’

  ‘Well, you know, to have a baby,’ said Betty.

  Then that new self that had emerged in her replied, ‘Why not ask your mother: she had you, didn’t she?’ and had immediately walked off, leaving them gaping after her. She knew they would be gaping for, as the headmistress had said to her on the day she left, ‘It is so uncharacteristic of you, Peggy. I’m really surprised.’

  Yes, a lot of people had been surprised, but no more than she was at what had happened to her; and at what was going to happen to her in the future: she was going to live with a boy hardly older than herself. But he would grow into a man and she into a woman and the child would grow. And what then?

  A knock on the far door startled her and she jumped to her feet and hurried towards it. When she had pulled it open she paused for a moment before she said, ‘Come on in. Oh, you’re wet.’

  ‘Yes, it’s started to rain.’

  ‘You haven’t got a mac on.’

  ‘No, it was dry when I left.’

  Andrew paused and looked around the dining kitchen; then he smiled at her and said, ‘It looks lovely, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It’s all right.’ Her voice sounded abrupt as she led the way into the sitting room. Here he again paused: ‘It’s all finished then,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, except we’ll have to get food in when we come back.’ The last words were muttered; but then brightly she said, ‘Sit down,’ and pointed to the couch that was set opposite the fire.

  He sat down, then slowly looked around him at the room and when he said with obvious admiration and a little awe, ‘You’ve made it lovely,’ she answered, ‘Oh, I had very little to do with it. You know, you saw them; they were all at it.’

  He was sitting on the edge of the couch, his hands clasped between his knees, and his head was lowered as he said, ‘They’ve all been very good, kind.’ She did not follow up this remark, but lowered herself down onto the far end of the couch, and she too, sat on the edge and looked towards the fire. After a moment she said, ‘I’m sorry I can’t offer you a cup of tea or anything yet; there’s nothing over here.’

  ‘Oh’—he lifted his head—‘I’ve had me tea.’ Then turning abruptly to face her, and almost on a demand, he said, ‘How d’you feel? I mean…I mean about tomorrow?’

  ‘How do you expect me to feel? It’s all settled, I can’t do anything about it.’

  ‘Do you still want to get married?’

  ‘I can ask you the same thing: do you want to get married?’

  He looked away from her for a moment before saying, ‘I didn’t, not at first. That’s the truth. But…but lately…well.’

  ‘Since you’ve seen this place and because it’s better than your home?’

  ‘No! No!’ She was startled because he had yelled at her, and she cried at him, ‘Please don’t yell at me like that.’

  He pushed his fingers through his hair now, saying, ‘Well, you’re suggesting it’s just because I want to come and live here and you’re wrong. I…I feel I’ve gone back to where it started…I mean when I first met you and I wanted you. Yes; yes, I did, I wanted you.’ He was again looking towards the fire. ‘But I can tell you this, I hate the idea of you being forced into marrying and, in a way, of me being so, too. It’s your mother and them on your side, and my dad on my side. He thinks it’s only right. Of course, my mam’s up in the air. Well, you saw what she was like. She always thought I would get to the university, but I knew I never would. I’m no flier: I only got four O-levels and just scraped into the sixth because of art. It’s odd—’ He now lifted his head and looked upwards and seemed to ponder for a moment before he added, ‘People like her, and Dad too, they think the world is at your feet if you get into a grammar school. I thought so too, at one time, because there weren’t many round our way got there. Joe Birkhead did. He’s in the next street. Now he is a flier. He’s a wizard at maths. He’ll go places.’

  She put in quietly now, ‘So could you, Andrew, if you put your mind to it. I mean, you could study at nights.’

  ‘What? Art?’

  He was looking straight at her now, and she answered, ‘Yes; or anything else you’d like to take up.’

  ‘Huh!’ He gave a shaky laugh, then shook his head, and for a moment he appeared like a grown man to her as he said, ‘I’m sure I’ll feel like studying at night after Mr Stanhope is finished with me, keeping me on my back lubricating the cars’ innards. Greasing their bellies, he calls it.’

  When he chuckled at his own words she chuckled too, and their chuckles linked and rose until they were both laughing; and when at last their laughter hiccoughed into silence he drew in a long breath, and presently he said softly, ‘It won’t be too bad. I’ll try to do me best in all ways. It’ll be a bigger change for me you know, not so much for you. You’ve been used to this’—he spread his hand out—‘but my life and Minnie’s have been rough and tumble all the way. She sounded a big mouth…Minnie, but she’s all right, really. Ma never took much notice of her, concentrated on me, so she went over to Da. She’s all right underneath, though; a bit brash, but she’ll grow out of it.’

  Of a sudden she felt drawn towards him: he was different; he seemed to have grown up all of a sudden.

  When he said, ‘I’d better go now, hadn’t I? You’ll want to do things. It’s…it’s eleven in the morning, isn’t it?’ she answered simply, ‘Yes, eleven.’

  He rose to his feet, saying, ‘I…I wish it was over, don’t you? I mean…well…and we were on our way. Have you ever been to Harrogate before?’

  ‘No, never.’

  ‘It’s…it’s a nice hotel. Da went through and booked it. It’s a posh place. He’s paying for the week as a kind of wedding present.’

  ‘It was good of him, very good.’

  ‘Da’s all right. You could get to like him.’

  ‘Yes, I think I could.’

  ‘I…I wish I could say the same for your dad.’

  ‘Do you want to know something, Andrew?’ she paused: he waited. ‘I wish I could say the same myself.’

  ‘Is that a fact? You said something like that before, but I didn’t believe it.’

  ‘Well, you can.’

  ‘He’ll lead me a rough time if he can at the works.’

  ‘Well, you’ll only have to stand up to him.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll do that all right. Oh yes, I will. There’s another side to me, you know: I won’t be pushed around by nobody. I’ve got that from me da.’

  They were standing near the door now looking at each other. His voice changed, he asked quietly, ‘Can I kiss you?’

  She made a small motion with her head, and he leaned forward, put his hands on her shoulders and his mouth on hers. His lips felt soft and hot, whereas hers remained tightly closed. After a moment he stood back, smiled at her and said, ‘Well, ta-ra until tomorrow.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ she said.

  When the door had closed on him
she stood with a cheek pressed against it and told herself not to cry, because she was no longer sad; yet she couldn’t claim to be happy.

  Seven

  They sat at a small table in a corner of the large dining room, and they were almost silent through awe. The room was brilliantly lit with glass chandeliers, and the glass, cutlery, and the napery on the table seemed to reflect the light and spread it over the diners. Only half the tables were occupied: the men were in dinner suits, very like those of the waiters, except for the one who stood by the open glass doors, and he wore tails. Without exception the women wore evening dress, and they all looked old, some of them fifty or over.

  The waiter who had served them, first with soup and then fish, was again at the table, but accompanied now by another, who was holding two plates, on each, half a duck. The main waiter had a bottle in his hand and he proceeded to fill their glasses with sparkling wine. Then, bowing first to one and then the other, he placed the champagne bottle to the side, saying, ‘With the compliments of the manager.’

  ‘Oh, thank you.’ They spoke together, then looked at each other, and, again together, smiled from one waiter to the other and said, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Enjoy your meal, madam…and sir.’

  They were again left alone.

  Peggy felt that she should raise her glass to his before she drank from it, but as he lifted his glass to his lips he just continued to smile at her; and so she sipped at her first taste of champagne. When the bubbles went up her nose she had to turn her head away to try and stop herself from sneezing, which caused them both to laugh softly, and this, not the drink itself seemed to make them feel more at ease, and he, bending slightly towards her, whispered, ‘D’you think we’ll get through this?’ and indicated the duck.